Kill and Let Die
by Jodie Jordinson
Summary: A certain psychotic redhead is on the loose with his equally bloodthirsty bride, and this time they wind up in a smalll, secluded town called South Park. Cartman's in trouble with the duo as he must ride to the Heart of Damballa, and stay alive! Will his friends find a reason to save him? Rated T for death! AFTER A TWO MONTH DELAY, CHUCKY'S BACK TO PLAY!
1. Can't Think of a Name for It

_**Hello, m'kay?**_  
_**Now, as the summary describes, I found it quite disappointing that Chucky or any of the Child's Play franchise has never been mentioned in South Park. Being a HUGE fan of humour, horror, thriller and gore, I decided to show everyone else how its done.**_  
_**In the least show-offy way, of course.**_  
_**Now, as usual, my Author's Note is going to be very short, as I have little patience (I assure you, there is no 900 mile-an-hour blue hedgehog hiding in my library of a head) for such things.**_  
_**Disclaimer; If I owned any of this, I would make sure that South Park added a lot more Ireland (and Holland! :D) in their episodes. Plus, Chucky would do a lot more killing than he does now, which, in turn, is quite a lot.**_  
_**Now, alas, the end of this A/N is upon me! I must flee!**_  
_**(Flings hand dramatically in the air, and the camera pans out, revealing she is on a human catapult, just like Stewie from Family Guy did when he used Meg's college fund to buy a huge one. She is flung over the trees, and does that weird laugh Peter did when he did the same thing.)**_

* * *

And how had he gotten it?  
Nobody knew.  
But they did know this much: Cartman was not to be trusted with such a thing.  
Okay. Something tells me you don't know the full story. So, I think I shall rewind a bit, to where the story began.

The day began with the usual guitar strumming, only audible if anyone had been watching the ordeal down below.

'For the last time, Kahl, its none of your freakin' business!'  
'Just let us see, Fatboy! Is it a Barbie?'  
'NO!'  
'Well, prove it!' said Kyle. He put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot with emphasis.  
'No way! I ain't gonna let you get your filty Jew hands on it!'  
'Hey, dude, that was uncalled for!' said Stan. Kyle clenched his fists and glared at Cartman. 'Just show us the goddamn thing, Fatboy.'  
'NO!'  
'Fine!' shouted Kyle. 'It probably IS a Barbie, anyway.'  
'No, its isn't! Its way cooler than a Barbie! It's-it's' Cartman looked frantically around for some inspiration. Suddenly, he saw some kid on the other side of the road with a PSP, with shooting sounds eminating from it.  
'It's a gun! Yeah, a huge AK-47 with reflex sight!'  
'So why is it only half the size of a real one?' questioned Kyle, an evil look in his eye, way eviler than he actually was.  
'It-it- aw, f*ck off , Jewboy. Now, douchebags, if you'll excuse me, I have learning to do,' said Cartman, hopping on the bus that had just pulled up beside them. Kenny flipped Cartman off behind his back. Cartman just ignored him and stuffed the box he had been holding into his backpack.  
'What a douche, dude.' said Stan, speaking for the first time that morning. 'Getting all hyped up because of some retarded box.'  
'Yeah, well, that pretty much explains Cartman.' said Kyle, sitting beside Butters and Kenny, who were already deep in conversation. Stan laughed and began a riveting conversation about exams and football. At least things were normal in this morning, for a start.

* * *

_At school..._

'And so Principal Victoria strongly advises anyone with symptoms of pink-eye to come to the nurse's office immediately. Well, that's it for the class notices. Do what you want, I have internet shopping to do.' said Mrs Garrison, letting the list of notices fall to the floor and digging out her laptop. Stan loved these moments of freedom, and it seemed Mrs Garrison couldn't get enough of them either. Stan stood up and advanced towards Kenny's desk, where Token, Cartman, Butters and Kyle already were, along with an asleep Kenny. Stan put his hand out to lean Kenny on his desk, so he wouldn't get a stiff neck when he woke up. 'Hey dudes,' he said. Everyone but Cartman said 'Hey' back.  
'Still huffing about your Malibu Barbie, fat*ss?' asked Stan.  
'Shut up, Douche Junior.' said Cartman.  
'Ladies, ladies, please. You'll wake Kenny,' said Jimmy.  
'Timmah!' said Timmy.  
'As I was saying, did ya see that new soccer chick? Man, she is hot.' said Kyle, leaning back on the desk.  
'Yeah, I'd like to score her.'  
'Totally.'  
Nobody saw Cartman sneak over to his desk and pull out the box from earlier. He cleared his voice and put on his best little-man routine. 'Mrs Gaaaaaaarison?' he asked, his eyes wide.  
'Yes, Eric?'  
'Can I go to the baaaaaaaaaathroom?'  
'Whatever.'  
'Thank you, ma'am. You're the best teacher eeeeeeeever.'  
Cartman tucked his bathroom pass in his trouser pocket and smirked. He wondered how Mrs Garrison hadn't seen through his little routines a long time ago. But now was not the time for in-your-head questions. Now was the time for answers. He looked around the boy's bathroom, seeing no one, and locked himself in the nearest cubicle. He tore off the newspaper, and was instantly disgusted.  
'That Jew was right!' he whispered through clenched teeth. 'Well, sorta. But if he is, this is one uuuuuuugly Barbie!'  
The thing he held in his chubby hands looked neither dead nor alive. It had ginger hair (Cartman bit back his trademark insult about these people) and dungarees with the words "Good Guys" embroidered on the front pocket. Its eyes were blue and squinted as he wore a very cheesy smile, and his face- oh, dear Lord, his face. It seemed to have been torn up earlier, and crudely stitched back up. There was a coldness in his eyes.  
'Jesus Christ...' said Cartman. He held the thing an arm's length away from him and winced. He pushed the stomach, and a fake voice rang out through the bathroom. 'Hi,' it said, its voice smiling. 'I'm Chucky. And I'm your friend to the end. Hidey-ho! Ha, ha, ha.'  
'F*cking creepy, dude,' said Cartman, stuffing the wrappings in the trash and the box containing the creepy doll in his backpack. He flushed the toilet even though he had not been, and left the bathroom without another word.

'Chucky? Come in, Chucky? This is Babydoll to Strangler, come in, Strangler?' she cursed. 'Goddammit. Looks like I'll have to deal with this by myself.'  
She was just reversing up the vent when her walkie-talkie fuzzed up. 'This is Strangler to Babydoll, what is your position?'  
'Aw, Chucky. Wish you'd have just answered me first.'  
'Yeah, well, it's pretty hard with this fat *sshole jumping up and down every 2 seconds. I'm feeling nauseous already, and we're not even in the classroom yet.'  
'Well, hold it in, would ya? Okay, send the plans... now!'  
Tiffany listened as the walkie-talkie fuzzed a bit, and Chucky's voice whisper-rang, 'Plans... sent. Meet me in the janitor's closet at 11. Over and out.'  
'Wait! Where is the janitor's closet?'  
'Look on the plans, b*tch. Strangler, over and out.'  
Tiffany sighed and dug out her phone, which said "1 New Message". She sighed again and crawled through the vent, looking for the classroom one. Finally, she saw a fat kid with a blue and yellow hat sauntering into a classroom with a backpack. She spotted a plastic hand poking out of the side, and knew this was the place.  
She took out a small circular plate from her jacket pocket and stuck it on the wall of the vent, and crawled further down until she reached the end of the vent, and dropped into an empty classroom.  
'Alone at last,' she said, taking a cigarette packet out of her pocket and lighting one. Breathing in, she counted down. '5...4...3...2...1...' There was an audible BANG, and the whole school seemed to erupt. Tiffany stubbed out her cigarette and stretched. 'Ahhhh...' she said. 'It's good to be back at school.'

_**You like? Well, don't tell me yet! REVIEWSREVIEWSREVIEWS PEOPLE! And I'm sorry its short. Mah back hurts. Laters!**_


	2. Splodge

_**Shablagoo!**_  
_**Yes'm, I always think of something irrelevant to the situation to say, don't I?**_  
_**Well, I never thought I'd have the time...but alas, I do. **_  
_**Now, thank you to (always :D) MeridiaParcumArcanity and playboyXXX, who have reviewed already. And thank you to those who took the time to read this even though they didn't review. It's cool!**_  
_**Now, on with the dissy...**_  
_**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Child's Play or South Park franchise. I own only the plot and Herb the janitor.**_  
_**Now, Merry Christmas! And to all a good summer!**_

* * *

'So, Chucky, what is it?'  
Tiffany and Chucky were in the janitor's closet, just like they had agreed. Chucky closed the door and leaned on a mop.  
'That kid, seriously...' he said.  
'What?'  
'He's so...fat.'  
'Chucky!'  
'What? He is!'  
Tiffany sighed. 'Okay, so what did you call me in here for?'  
'Well, that kid, as fat as he is, could help us get into normal bodies. I've seen him. He's obviously the dominant one out of the whole clan, so if we get him on our side...'  
'Yeah, yeah, whatever. What I want to know is, how can he help us?'  
Chucky just smiled. 'Well, he was bragging about the government, and how he'd somehow gotten a tour of the whole place. In some room, when he broke off from the group, he'd seen exactly what I've been searching my *ss off for for the past 5 years.'  
'And...?' asked Tiffany, interested now.  
'The Heart of Damballa.'  
Tiffany gasped. 'But how did he know what it was?'  
'I don't know, but all I do know is that he's a weapon now. He knows about the amulet, and if we get him on our side-' Chucky broke off, as the knob on the janitor's closet began to turn. 'Sh*t, Barbie mode, Tiff!'  
They froze into a doll-like position, just as the door opened and the janitor came into view. 'Damn kids, always putting their dollies in my closet. This is Herb's closet, not anyone else's.' mumbled Herb, the janitor. He picked up Chucky and Tiffany and went into the kindergarten classroom.  
'Okay, let's see. Dollies are for kiddies, so these dollies must be going here...' he put them down on a shelf, and began mopping the floor. When his back was turned, Chucky slowly pulled out his trusty knife, poised, and pounced on the janitor.  
The janitor screamed, writhing around, trying to get this...this...thing off of him. It seemed that he was too misjudgent of his position, however, and slipped on the wet spot of the floor. Chucky leapt off him just in time, and the janitor fell with a mighty CRACK.  
Chucky resumed a good position, and pointed his knife at the janitor, who was stiff with fear. 'Freeze, *sshole.' he said with a smirk.  
'P-p-lease, j-just let me b-be...' pleaded the janitor, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Chucky glared at him, and raised his knife higher. 'No chance.' he said, finally bringing it down.  
Blood spurted everywhere. Tiffany's hair was no longer white, but vampire red and dripping. It dripped down onto her dress and she just smiled, wiping it off with a polished nail. 'God, it's times like these I love being a doll,' she said. Chucky grinned and wiped his knife on the sleeve of his shirt.  
'Me too Tiff, me too.'

* * *

_Later at Kyle's..._

'Yahtzee!'  
'Dude! No way!'  
Kyle frowned as Stan took all the Tootsies for himself. 'You cheated.' he said.  
'Nuh-uh, man. I won on pure luck. Looks like I'll be the one sick tonight!'  
'Hmph.' said Kyle. He looked around the room, and spotted his Xbox. 'Hey, Stan, if you're so good, hows about we face-to-face in Call of Duty?'  
'Nah...'  
'C'mon!'  
'No, I don't feel like it, dude. I gotta go, Mom's gonna be worried.' said Stan, picking up his winnings and heading towards the door.  
'Are ya chicken?' said Kyle, daring, just daring.  
Stan stopped and slowly turned around.  
'Nobody, but nobody calls me-'  
The door slammed open and the figures of both Craig and Tweek appeared in the doorway. Kyle looked up. Craig looked as bold as usual and Tweek looking as fearless as he could, but he was still biting his nails.  
'Hey dudes,' said Craig.  
'Hey Craig,' said Kyle, scratching the back of his neck. He jumped when Tweek gave a little scream.  
'DUDE!' he shrieked. 'YOU JUST KILLED STAN!' Craig looked down and raised his eyebrows. 'Oops.' he said, looking supremely unconcerned. He stepped over Stan's knocked out body and held out his hand for something. 'Homework?' he asked Kyle.  
'Oh...yeah, it-it's in my bag, I'll just go get it...' said Kyle, stepping over Stan and hurtling out of the room. He stopped when he got to the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banisters of the stairs. He sighed, and went to look for that small piece of pink paper. He did not know why he agreed to this, but he knew if he didn't hold up his end, he was a dead man.

* * *

_At Cartman's...*_

"Dies ist die erste Forderung erheben wir und tun müssen: dass unsere Leute frei eingestellt werden, dass diese Ketten gesprengt werden, dass Deutschland wieder einmal sein Kapitän ihrer Seele und Meister ihres Schicksals, zusammen mit all denen, die nach Deutschland kommen wollen ." blared the TV.

'Yeah!' said Cartman, digging out the last chocolate drops of his Caramel Dream Ice-Cream and doing the Nazi salute. 'Too right!'

He did not notice the shadow behind him, wielding a knife and aiming for his throat...

"Und die Erfüllung dieser ersten Nachfrage öffnet sich dann den Weg für alle anderen Reformen. Und hier ist eine Sache, die vielleicht unterscheidet uns von Ihnen so weit wie unser Programm angeht, obwohl es sehr viel ist in den Geist der Dinge: unsere Einstellung zur Judenfrage."

'Well, duh!' he shouted.

"Für uns ist dies kein Problem, das Sie ein Auge zudrücken kann zu-eins durch kleine Zugeständnisse gelöst werden. Für uns ist es ein Problem, ob unsere Nation immer wieder seine Gesundheit, ob der jüdische Geist jemals wirklich ausgerottet werden. Nicht zu denken, können Sie eine Krankheit, ohne zu töten den Träger zu kämpfen, ohne Zerstörung des Bazillus Irre geführt werden. Glauben Sie nicht, Sie können Rassentuberkulose ohne Rücksicht auf das Volk der Träger dieser Rassentuberkulose befreien kämpfen. Diese jüdische Kontamination nicht nachlassen, wird diese Vergiftung des Volkes nicht zu Ende, bis der Träger selbst, der Jude, hat aus unserer Mitte verbannt worden."

'Who wouldn't know that?' cried Cartman, throwing away the tub of ice-cream onto the huge pile to his right. he was about to reach for another, when he felt his head being pulled back, and the cold blade of a knife on his neck.  
'Take another tub, and your ice-cream won't be oak brown anymore, fatboy, but a nice strawberry colour...' whispered a voice behind him. Cartman's blood ran cold, and he slowly turned around to face his attacker...  
'Daf*q? Gingers! ATTACK OF THE GINGERS!' he screamed, but it was soon masked with a sound remarkably like *SLICE* and a chilling laugh blocking out the sound of Hitler's speech, and dots of red on the TV.

* * *

_**Well? Whaddya think? REVIEWS FEED ME! TELL ME!**_  
_***For those who don't speak German, try Google translate. **_  
_**What's going on about the whole Craig-Kyle thing? Is Cartman dead? All will be revealed... NEXT TIME! I know, I know, I'm so cruel... But I can only be myself, right? X)**_


	3. Herb, Guitars and Chinese Burns

**_Hey, you!_**  
**_Braceface here. Yeah, I actually said that. Got braces two Thurdays ago, and they hurt. So please forgive me if my concentration is off. I am trying to prise them into a more comfortable position, which, as I have just figured out, is impossible._**  
**_Okay. So, I haven't done this since SFE, but I am going to tell you what music I am listening to as I write this. _**  
**_Music: You Need Me I Don't Need You- Ed Sheeran. This guy is so freaking epic! _**  
**_Chainsaw- Family Force 5. I just love Christian Rock, especially this band. Also, if you are wondering, "Christian Rock Hard" was one of my favourite episodes of South Park. Also, it would be nice if you reviewed your favourite episode, so I can include some flashbacks for your pleasure. After all, if it weren't for all you wonderful people, I wouldn't have the courage to put up stories in the first place. If I haven't seen the episode you are referring to, I shall whip out my android and watch it. Hey, I may have been banned 4 times but a rebel's gotta have fun, right?_**  
**_Evanescence- Bring Me to Life :D_**

_**Foster the People- Pumped Up Kicks**_  
**_Enough of my ramblings, the dissy-claimer!_**  
**_Dissyclaimer: I don't own any characters displayed in this story unless I say I do. I'm not going to lie and say I own Kenny, because I know that isn't goin' tah happen. _**  
**_I also don't own the song that appears here. It belongs to Ed Sheeran. _**  
**_By the way, both Chucky and Tiff look like they did in Seed, and Glen/da isn't in this fic. Also, does anyone know why Glen/da is British when Chucky and Tiffany are both American? :/_**

* * *

The sound of soft scufflings awoke Cartman from his slumber. He opened his eyes slowly, and tried to look around the room. Yet it seemed his normal free neck articulation was restricted, as he could only lift it a few inches above the floor. His arms were tied behind him in a tight knot, and he was also tied to a kitchen chair.  
He could hear a man's voice in the kitchen, with a hint of a Chicago accent.  
'Yeah, I got him. He's knocked out in the living room... whatever...yeah, yeah, just get here quick! We're runnin' outta time!'  
Cartman gritted his teeth and flexed his hands, trying to slip free of the knot binding him. But his hands were too chubby, and he ended up giving himself a rather nice, yet nasty, Chinese burn. He winced, and writhed around, looking for an exit. He heard a faint "click" and someone walking across the kitchen floor. He put his face on the floor and closed his eyes, imitating unconciousness.  
It seemed to work, and the ginger walked right past him.

* * *

_At Butter's house..._

'And so the mysterious Mysterion's identity remains a mystery,' blared the TV.  
'Oh, boy, I love Thursday night TV!' exclaimed Butters. He squirted more chocolate sauce on his ice-cream and sat up straight in his chair, just as a special news bulletin flashed on the screen.  
'57-year old Herb Finnely was found dead at South Park Elementary this evening. The janitor at this school was found in the kindergarten classroom and to have a fractured skull and had been repeatedly stabbed in the chest and back. Invesigations are being carried out as we speak. The students at South Park Elementary will be off school for the remainder of this invesigation. More at 10 with Chris Appleton, lead reporter.'

Butters choked on his ice-cream (which he thought would be impossible). Herb? _Dead?_  
'Oh, hamburgers, I gotta tell the fellars about this!' he cried, reaching for the cordless phone on the kitchen top. He dialled Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman. Stan picked up first.  
'Hello?'  
'Stan! Oh, Jesus, you aren't gonna believe this, but-'  
'Hello?' came Kyle's voice on his end of the phone.  
'Oh, Kyle! You aren't gonna believe this, but-'  
'Mmph?'  
'Kenny! Okay, fellars, listen up- hey, uh, where's Eric?'  
'No idea,' said Stan. 'Probably watching something about the Holocaust and masturbating about it- oh, sorry Kyle.'  
From Kyle's line there came an annoyed noise. 'Okay, what is it, Butters?'  
'Well, you know the janitor, Herb?'  
'The one that was always throwing the mop in our faces and shouting, "You'll never get me, spawn of Satan!"?' asked Kenny.  
'Uh, well, yeah...' said Butters, twisting awkwardly in his seat. 'Well, you see, fellars, he was found... d-d-dead.'  
Then came one of the loudest silences Butters had ever heard. 'W-what?' asked Kyle, Butters could hear the fear in his voice.  
'He's dead. They found him in the kindergarten class. He'd been stabbed in the back and chest multiple times.'  
'Dude!' said Stan.  
'Yeah, I know.'  
'Well, when?'  
'They say it was yesterday they found him. He was completely and utterly dead.'

* * *

_With Stan, later on..._

'Stanley!' called Sharon from downstairs. 'Come downstairs! Dinner's ready!' Stan abandoned his guitar and hurtled down the stairs; he could smell chicken from miles away.  
He slammed himself into the chair and stuffed everything (except the broccoli) into his mouth. He choked down his milk and took another few bites.  
'Woah, woah, woah! Stan, what's the rush?' asked Randy, sitting down and taking a swig of his beer.  
'Oh'm wahting a shonfg ond ah down't wahnt tah coh ouwt ov myee wone-'  
'Stanley, we've told you time and time again not to talk with your mouth full!' said Sharon.  
'Yeah, turd!' said Shelley, throwing her peas at him.  
'Shut up, Shelley, you stupid b*tch!'  
Randy and Sharon looked aghast. 'STANLEY RANDALL MARSH, YOU WILL NOT USE THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE IN FRONT OF US OR ANYWHERE ELSE! YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR A WEEK!' shouted Sharon, standing up. Stan dropped his fork accidentally on purpose and rolled his eyes. When he got up, everyone was silent and chewing.  
'Mom, Dad, did you hear about the news?'  
'What? Japan hasn't bombed us again, have they?' ***  
'No! Well, not as I'm aware... but it's pretty gruesome...'  
'And? What is it?'  
Stan paused for a minute and pushed his chicken around his plare. Finally he said, 'The school janitor was found dead in the kindergarten class.'  
Randy choked on his potatoes and Sharon went white. 'W-what?'  
'Exactly what I thought...' said Stan.  
'You're lying!' sneered Shelley.  
'No, I'm not! Go to Hell, Shelley!'  
'Stanley!'  
'Ugh!' said an experated Stan, getting up and dumping his plate in the sink. 'You don't have to believe me, but it's true! I'm not a liar.' Sharon watched his Converse slide up the stairs and out of sight.  
Stan slammed his door shut- something he wasn't meant to do- and picked up his guitar. He plucked he strings with boredom and decided. ' 'ello, 'ello,' he put on his best British accent and started on the song. Beatboxing, he sung:

_Now I'm in town, break it down, thinking of making a new sound_  
_Playing a different show every night in front of a new crowd_  
_That's you now, ciao, seems that life is great now_  
_See me lose focus, as I sing to you loud_  
_And I can't, no, I won't hush_  
_I'll say the words that make you blush_  
_I'm gonna sing this now_

_Oh oh_

_See, I'm true, my songs are where my heart is_  
_I'm like glue, I stick to other artists_  
_I'm not you, now that would be disastrous_  
_Let me sing and do my thing and move to greener pastures_  
_See, I'm real, I do it all, it's all me_  
_I'm not fake, don't ever call me lazy_  
_I won't stay put, give me the chance to be free_  
_Suffolk sadly seems to sort of suffocate me_

_'Cause you need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you at all_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_

_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you at all_  
_You need me_

_I sing and write my own tune and I write my own verse_  
_Hell, don't need another word-smith to make my tune sell?_  
_Call yourself a singer-writer - you're just bluffing_  
_Your name's on the credits and you didn't write nothing_  
_I sing fast, I know that all my shit's cool_  
_I will blast and I didn't go to Brit School_  
_I came fast with the way I act, right_  
_I can't last if I'm smoking on a crack pipe_

_And I won't be a product of my genre_  
_My mind will always be stronger than my songs are_  
_Never believe the bullshit that fake guys feed to ya_  
_Always read the stories that you hear on Wikipedia_  
_And musically I'm demonstrating_  
_When I perform live, feels like I am meditating_  
_Times at the Enterprise when some fella filmed me_  
_'A young singer-writer like Gabriella Cilmi'_

_'Cause you need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you, at all_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_

_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you, at all_  
_You need me_

_'Cause with the lyrics I'll be aiming it right_  
_I won't stop 'til my name's in lights_  
_At stadium heights with Damien Rice_  
_On red carpets, now I'm on Arabian Nights_  
_Because I'm young I know my brother's gonna give me advice_  
_Long nighter, short height and I gone hyper_  
_Never be anything but a singer-songwriter, yeah._  
_The game's over but now I'm on a new level_  
_Watch how I step on the track without a loop pedal_  
_People think that I'm bound to blow up_  
_I've done around about a thousand shows_  
_But I haven't got a house plus I live on a couch_  
_So you can be the lyrics when I'm singing them out, wow_  
_From day one, I've been prepared_  
_With vo5 wax for my ginger hair_  
_So now I'm back to the sofa, giving a dose of what the future holds_  
_'Cause it's another day_  
_Plus I'll keep my last name forever keep the genre pretty basic_  
_Gonna be breaking into other people's tunes when I chase it_  
_And replace it with the elephant in the room with a facelift_  
_Into another rapper's shoes using new laces_  
_Selling CD's from my rucksack aiming for the papers_  
_Selling CD's from my rucksack aiming for the majors_  
_Nationwide tour with just jack, still had to get the bus back_  
_Clean cut kid without a razor for the mustache_  
_I hit back when the pen hurts me_  
_I'm still a choir boy in a Fenchurch tee_  
_I'm still the same as a year ago_  
_But more people hear me though_  
_According to the MySpace and YouTube videos_  
_I'm always doing shows if I'm not I'm in the studio_  
_Truly broke, never growing up call me Ruffio_  
_Melody music maker_  
_Reading all the papers_  
_They say I'm up and coming like I'm fucking in an elevator ._

_'Cause you need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you, at all_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_

_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you, at all_  
_You need me, man, I don't need you_

Stan gasped for air and collapsed on his bed. He'd never sung for so long in his life. The image of Herb's dead, bleeding body was no longer in his mind. He was focusing on other things. More important things.

* * *

*****NOT a ref to Pearl Harbour. Laters!**


	4. Shoodleybopadooda

_**.HI!**_  
_**Okay, so you know I said there was going to be a sequel to SFE? Well...**_  
_**I LIED!**_  
_***dies laughing***_  
_**Ah. I is only joking, m'kay. There is going to be a sequel. I know I told a few people already, but I felt the rest needed to know. Hee, hee, heeeeeh.**_  
_**Okey-pokey, here we ding-ding-diddly go!**_  
_**Disclaimer: No matter how much Spike Wristed Drummer Girl wishes, she doesn't and never will own South Park, Child's Play or any of the characters in either shows/films. **_  
_**Nice...**_

* * *

'Okay children, let's take our seats.'  
Mrs Garrison put her books on the desk and put her hands on her hips. The class ceased their chatter and gave Mrs Garrison their undivided attention.  
'Now, I would like to start off today better than yesterday, in which a certain someone decided it would be okay to fart the British National Anthem,' Mrs Garrison looked at Craig with an evil look in her eye. Craig smirked, and Butters giggled in the manliest way he could.  
'Alright then, the roll call. Annie?'  
'Here.'  
'Butters?'  
'Here.'  
'Craig?'  
'Here.'  
'Eric?'  
There was no answer. Mrs Garrison looked up and scanned the row of seats of which Cartman would usually sit. 'Does anyone know where Eric is today?'  
Everyone shrugged.  
'Well, on the plus side,' said Mrs Garrison, marking Cartman absent. 'We might actually get some work done today. Okay, so, take out your textbooks, please, and finish your essays on "The Berlin Wall."'  
There was a flurry of movement as everyone dug in their backpacks for their textbooks, and started to write.  
'Hey, Kyle, do you know where Cartman is? I haven't seen him for days.' asked Kenny, leaning over.  
'Don't know, don't care.' said Kyle, writing as fast as his hands would go.  
'Same.' said Kenny, sitting back.  
It felt good to be free of that fat*ss.

* * *

_At Cartman's..._

'I can have you sued for this, you stupid ginger!' said Cartman, writhing around on the floor.  
'Good luck, buddy.' said Chucky, standing on his hand. Cartman cried out in surprise: he had no idea plastic could hurt so much.  
'What's that supposed to mean?' he hissed.  
Chucky ignored him and went into the kitchen, where Tiffany emerged, carrying a bowl of ice-cream. 'Don't worry, sweetie. Chucky's just a bit touchy at the minute.'  
'I HEARD THAT!' shouted Chucky from the kitchen.  
Tiffany rolled her eyes and scooped up a bit of ice-cream, feeding it to Cartman. He licked his lips appreciatively. He liked this girl better than that thing in the kitchen. Tiffany ate some herself before setting the bowl down in front of Cartman.  
She went into the kitchen where Chucky was sat on a chair. She put her hands on her hips and looked expectantly at him.  
'He isn't cracking. He refuses to tell me where it is!' he said.  
' You used the Ray method of dealing with stubborn people again, didn't you?' sighed Tiffany.  
Chucky didn't answer.  
'Did you even try reasoning with him? Asking nicely?'  
Chucky scoffed. 'As if. You know that's not the way I do things, Tiff.'  
'Yeah, I know. But sometimes you have to reason with people to get what you want, instead of threatening to gouge out their eyeballs with your bare hands.'  
'Johnny had it coming!'  
'Yes, but that's not the point. The point is, from now on let me do the talking. You can do the action part.'  
Chucky sighed and leapt down from the chair. 'Fine,' he said. 'But if he doesn't crack after three tries we're doing this my way.'  
'Okay,' said Tiffany, going into the living room again.  
Cartman had been trying to free himself once more, but went limp when Chucky and Tiffany came into the room.  
'I hope you weren't trying to escape. You do realize you're not getting out of here unless you help us?' asked Tiffany, kneeling down.  
'Nope.'  
'Well, you aren't.'  
'Okay.'  
'For Christ sake, kid. Where is it?' cried Chucky, brandishing his trusty butcher's knife.  
'W-where's what?' asked Cartman, eyeing the knife warily.  
'THE FREAKING HEART OF DAMBALLA!' screamed Chucky, aiming the knife right at Cartman's forehead.  
'I-I have no idea what you're talking a-about,' said Cartman. Chucky screamed in experation and put his head in his hands. 'Strike one.' he mumbled.

* * *

_At lunch..._

'Ahhhhh...' sighed Kyle, stretching out his legs on the seat where Cartman usually sat. 'I can't remember the last time I was able to do this.'  
'And I can't remember the last time I could sit up straight without being called a nerd.' said Butters.  
'And I can't remember the last time I was able to eat a whole lunch without eating burps in my sandwich.' said Kenny, munching his ham sandwich with unusual gusto.  
Everyone was silent for a second. Craig slurped his juice without saying anything. Tweek fidgeted with his shirt while struggling not to bite his tongue. Stan played a car racing game on his Gameboy.  
Silence.  
Then:  
'I miss him.'  
Everyone threw their drinks at Butters.

* * *

_**Yeah, its short. Sorry, my little sister's bugging me. Laters!**_


	5. Craigman Says Tittysprinkles

_**Heshaloopala!**_  
_**That's hello in... uh... Divvynese. **_  
_**SO SORRY FOR THE TWO-NEARLY 3- MONTH DELAY! You have my most sincere and deep apologies. SERIOUSLY.**_  
_**Woah! Chapter 5 already! And it only took like, ages! Thank you everyone who reviewed (including my little brother)! I'm glad you're as interested in this fic as I am. :) Plus, I'm sorry that the last chapter was way too short. My sister was throwing a tantrum because I was takin' "too long to get off the computer". Apparently... :/**_  
_**Okay, so, the Disclaimer...**_  
_**I DON'T OWN ANYTHING FROM THIS FIC. Except maybe (I know this sounds really big headed, but I made a guest appearance in this fic, as did my friend Phoebe and my singer-songwriter friend Chloe could really do with publicity, She's an amazing singer and is down for Britain's Got Talent. So all you Brits, look out, cuz Chloe Brown is about tah hit your screens!) me and Phoebe and mention of my friend Chloe.**_  
_**Theme for this fic is going to be Rob Zombie's "Scum of the Earth". I saw it on a Chucky tribute and fell in love with it.**_  
_**-**_

The days went by, and still Cartman had not appeared at school.  
It had been heaven for the first few, like, hours, but then the whole school thing got a bit boring without anyone shouting "Tittysprinkles!" once every hour. Craig had to go to the counseller after trying to take Cartman's place as the class clown, getting on the table and performing "My Milkshake"  
'Though I do have to admit, it was pretty freaking funny, dude,' said Kenny when Craig returned.  
Mrs Garrison went on for a full ten minutes talking about the Holocaust without anyone (other than Craigman) disturbing her.  
Now Craig was King Jack*ss, minus the crown.

'Okay, let's go through the whole thing again.'  
Chucky was pacing up and down the kitchen. Tiffany was sat at the table with a pad of paper and-rather attractive- gold pen.  
'Okay. So, we hold the kid hostage till his mom comes back from Scottsdale-' said Tiffany.  
'-and then, seeing as we haven't got a ride, we'll hitch with her-'  
'-and if she doesn't co-operate, her kid will be minus his throat-'  
'Yeah, so we go to Canada, cause that's where the Heart's being kept-'  
'-the kid knows how to get in, right?'  
'Yeah. Went through it with him and everything.'  
'Good. So then what?'  
'Once we've got in and out, with the Heart, and back to a secure hiding place, we won't need the kid and his mom blabbing. So we'll finish them off.'  
'Okay. I've got it all down.'  
Chucky nodded and went back to the sitting room. Cartman, looking considerably thinner and pale, was no longer tied to his chair but sat on the couch, too scared to move. Chucky looked at him and Cartman looked back. Neither spoke. Then;  
'You look like you could do with some food.'  
Cartman looked up, petrified. 'W-what?'  
'Listen, I really don't want to feed you and couldn't care less if you starve to death. But I figure if I'm gonna get anywhere I might as well make sure you have a throat to speak from. So, are you gonna keep sulking, jackass, or are you gonna cooperate?'  
Cartman looked down with bloodshot eyes and nodded half-heartedly. Chucky stuffed his hands in his pockets and shouted into the kitchen. 'WOMAN!'  
Cartman heard a sigh and the clip of heels along linoleum. Then the pretty blond poked her head round the door. 'Yes?'  
'He's hungry.'  
Tiffany rolled her eyes and shook her hands at Chucky. 'Can't. Have to wait for my nails to dry.'  
'Fine. I'll do it. Where's the bread?'  
'In the tin. Be careful, it's heavy.' said Cartman.  
Chucky ignored this and marched into the kitchen, making sure he bumped hard into Tiffany on the way.

_Approximately 7 minutes later..._

'Hurry up,' said Chucky, shoving a sandwich in front of Cartman, who barely let it touch the glass of the coffee table before devouring all of it in one go.  
'Impressive,' said Chucky, who quickly exited the room before this kid thought he was beginning to like him.  
Cartman wiped the crumbs from his mouth and looked around the room. For the first time in his life he  
1. felt scared to leave his own couch  
2. was petrified to cross to his own TV to watch his own shows.  
3. didn't care he was missing Terrance and Phillip.  
4. was terrified to enter the kitchen

He spotted a mirror on the coffee table and looked in it. He was shocked at what he saw.  
His usual flabby face was now normal shaped, and he could actually see his neck now. He was paler than before and his hat flopped sadly down his face. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days. He ran a finger under his eyes and made the circles under them worse. Then, once again, he let his eyes slide to the deep gash in his neck. He had no idea how he'd survived the attack. All he knew was that that knife would be red again soon.  
The sound of the doorbell made Cartman jump a foot in the air. He managed to stand up and takle a few shaky steps to the door. Finally, one of his friends had got worried and decided to check on him. How he'd missed Kenny and his obscene muffles, Stan and his macho coolness*.  
And, uh, the other one.  
_I always knew I was popular_, he thought, as he took his 7th wobbly step. _Who could resist this handsome face, the deep, cool voice that I've held since I was 8? Finally, one of my many friends have decided to rescue me. They must have been nothing without me, a simple pile of compost on the delicate, attractive rose that I am-_  
His vain thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the muffled sneakers on carpet and a sharp pain at the back of his leg. The stupid ginger had stabbed him. _Again_. He fell on the ground, not with an epic splodge, like he would've done before he'd lost his excess weight, but with a neat little thump. The back of his leg was searing with pain as he plucked the toy arrow from it. Blood was spilling on the carpet. He took off his coat and dabbed it at his leg.  
He heard the front door open, and an excited squeal. '_Oh my Cthulhu!_ A Chucky doll!' came a female voice with a British accent. 'Phoebe, look! We come all the way out here from England to deliver leaflets about Chloe's world tour, and already we hit the jackpot! Aww, you're soo cute! Yes you are! Yes you aaaaare!'  
Jeez, thought Cartman, struggling to stand up. Looks like his face isn't one only his mother could love. She certainly sounded excited.  
'You look so real! Just like in the films!' said another voice. 'Here, Jo, let me hold him-'  
There came a piercing scream, and sound of thrashing. He heard heavy boots along his walkway. 'Dollies gone rogue!' he heard one of them scream.  
'IT WAS TOO FREAKING PREDICTABLE!' the other screamed, and soon they died away. Chucky came back in the room, and wiped his fingers off his knife. 'British blood,' he said. 'The sweetest of nectars.'  
'Sicko,' whispered Cartman as he pulled himself back over to the sofa.  
'Thank you, asshole.' said Chucky, and he closed the kitchen door.

* * *

_**Didn't seem worth the wait? I am now your Agony Aunt for Fanfiction.**_  
_***Input of mine, just because I think Stan is super cool.**_


End file.
